Marisol Reyes
Creator
International Airspace, Atlantic Ocean
Marisol continued to braid Aisling’s hair as she told her own story:
“So, I was born in Manila, the biggest city of the Philippines… that’s an island country far away from here.”
“An island country like Ireland?” Aisling asked.
“My country is made up of about seven thousand islands all under one flag.” Marisol replied with a chuckle.
“Your king must be very powerful.” Aisling sounded awed.
Marisol shook her head, smiling. Then she went on.
“My parents were very religious. They prayed to the Virgin Mary to bless them with a child, and they got lucky when Momma got pregnant with me. I was told the story afterward, but my first day on Earth was a hard one.”
“What do you mean?” Aisling asked.
“When I was born…something went wrong.” Marisol explained. “Momma never said if the problem was with her or with me, but the only thing we know for sure is that as soon as my life began…I died.”
“You died!?” Aisling repeated, aghast.
Marisol nodded.
“Yeah.” She said. “Momma said I didn’t cry when I was born… I never even got to take my first breath, I just started turning blue instead. So my parents began to pray. At the same time, one of the doctors started working on me. Momma said they spent about ninety seconds trying to make me breathe, and well…”
Marisol allowed herself to laugh.
“Something they did must have worked, because here I am talking to you. Momma said it was a miracle from God, that I was a miracle from God.”
“It is a miracle.” Aisling said. “A real one!”
Marisol used her favorite red hair tie to hold Aisling’s braid in place.
“I was the only one who had trouble.” Marisol said. “My sister Mariposa and little brother Gabriel didn’t give Momma any trouble. I guess they felt she’d gone through enough. She loves all of us, but sometimes I catch her thanking God for letting me stay.”
“And your father?” Aisling pressed.
“My father was a soldier in the Philippine Army. President Estrada declared an ‘all-out-war’ against the Islamist rebels in the south, so my father went off to fight. He was killed when I was still very young. My brother Gabriel was a baby. Mariposa and I were just old enough to understand he was never coming home.
“Momma suddenly had to care for three children by herself. She had a little bit of money coming in from family members who moved to America, but it wasn’t enough. She called around to her friends and she was able to get her old job back, at the place she worked before she had me… this big fancy hotel on Roxas Boulevard, right on the water’s edge. She was one of the managers. Even then, we just barely scraped by, living on the edge of the slums.”
Marisol paused as the plane hit some mild turbulence, then resumed:
“Then, when I was eleven years old, my sister and I were playing in a park when the Islamist rebels attacked. They blew up a bus and killed a lot of people closeby to where we were. I didn’t know what to do… but Mariposa kept looking up at me and asking… it was like she thought I would already know the right thing to do. I just took her by the hand and brought her home. I didn’t want Mariposa to see me panicking, so I had to just dosomething.
“When we got home, Momma praised me. She said I was my sister’s guardian angel, that God let me stay on Earth so I could care for my family. I suddenly felt so… responsible for everything and everyone. I knew I had to start bringing in money for the household.”
“What did you do?” Aisling asked.
“Well, I was twelve years old.” Marisol giggled. “There was very little I could do. I lived in Manila, the one place in the country where child labor laws are actually enforced! I got a weekend gig working as something like a maid. I’d go over to people’s houses and clean up their messes. Did that for a couple of years. At the same time, I found something I could do at school… but looking back on it… I don’t feel good about it.”
“Why?”
“Because it grosses me out when I think about it as an adult.” Marisol replied. “I heard a rumor at school that one of the girls was making money on the side by selling kisses. Find a secret spot between classes; kiss a boy for cash. I did it for a couple years. Kissed maybe a hundred boys and took about sixty thousand Pesos home. I thought I was a genius. I made up a whole stupid pricing scheme. Charged extra to kiss like we were dating, there was a groping fee, and if someone wanted me to be their girlfriend for a day, I cleaned out their wallet. I thought I was saving my family and having fun at the same time… but then… then I got sick.”
Marisol sighed.
“There was some illness going around the school. I must have kissed at least ten boys who were already sick, so I got super sick. Like, I was messed up for weeks. Had to stay in bed, couldn’t eat, could barely drink water. Of course, the whole time Momma was asking how I got this way… but things got bad when I lost my maid job. I was too sick to work, so all of the clients fired me. Then Momma wouldn’t stop asking me what I did to get so sick. So, I told her about the kissing business.”
Marisol felt goosebumps rising on her arms as she re-told this part of the story. It was a very unpleasant memory.
“I thought Momma was gonna kill me.” Marisol admitted. “That’s the only time she ever beat me… and she used her nicest umbrella for it, too. Still hurts when I think about it.”
Aisling turned around and hugged Marisol very tightly. She felt soft and warm, as though Marisol was cuddling a Saint Bernard.
“What happened after that?” Aisling asked.
“After I got better, Momma made me transfer schools, and I paid for it by getting a job at the same hotel as her. Mariposa came along too, since I was supposed to be setting a good example for her.”
“Did you?”
“Kind of. I mean, I tried.” Marisol answered. “Mariposa got arrested once for fighting with a hotel guest, and then Momma got arrested for beating up a drunk guy who mistook our apartment for the brothel. The police let her go and arrested the guy when they saw the bruises he left on my arm, but we still lost all of our savings in a couple of months. Things got a little better after I turned 18, though.
“One of the other hotel managers liked my ‘customer service voice’ and told me about one of his friends who worked for the airport. He got me a job interview because he owed us a favor. Asiana liked what they saw and hired me. Six weeks of training later, I got my passport and was on a plane to America.”
“So then how did you meet Blake?” Aisling asked.
“Well, not all of my time as a Flight Attendant is spent in the air. I do have a lot of downtime, sitting in the airports or hotels waiting for something or someone. I picked up a couple hobbies to pass the time. Started skateboarding around the courtyards and parks in the daytime. At night, I’d go online and read fanfiction about all of the cartoons and computer games I knew as a kid. For my 21st birthday, I bought myself a gaming laptop and started playing again.
“I stumbled onto Blake’s stories while I was looking for a sci-fi fanfic to read. Gobbled upThe Stormbreakersin two days and then binge-read the rest of the series over a few weeks. Then, one day while I was readingYear of Hell, Blake posted a reminder about how he once gave permission for people to write fanfics about his characters.”
Aisling looked confused.
“Wait, hold on. Blake was letting people write their own stories using his characters?” She said.
“Yup.” Marisol replied. “I was all nervous and anxious, so I sent Blake a message asking permission, just to make sure it was okay. He said yes… so I went off and wrote my own story with his Creations.”
“What did you write?” Aisling asked.
“Well…” Marisol said, “I always liked that scene inThe Stormbreakerswhere Blake and Chihiro decided to elope in the desert. I… I uh…”
Marisol blushed. Confessing to this was embarrassing. A voice spoke over her shoulder.
“She wrote an extended ending for the love scene.” Blake explained, causing Marisol to jump with surprise.
“How long were you there!?” Marisol gasped.
“Since the part where your sister got arrested.” Blake said. “We were getting curious.”
Marisol looked over the top her seat and noticed that all of the creations were now paying attention to her story, plus Herten and Bella and a few members of Cali’s team.
“Honestly, after everything that’s happened in the past few days, I never would have guessed that was your life story.” Varian admitted.
Marisol turned her attention back to Aisling.
“Well, it’s just like when you’re writing a story. Backgrounds don’t define people. A backstory is just the first block everything else is built on, it’s where you start out as. It’s not who you are forever. Look at yourselves. Kanti, you were a programmer building a Psionic computer system, and by the end of your story, you were the Galactic Custodian and one of the Cape Canaveral Rescuers.”
“I’m going to be Galactic Custodian!?” Kanti repeated, sounding pleased.
“Trig the girl-crazy high school student takes down the most dangerous starship in the Galaxy and wounds the Great Khan.” Marisol continued, “Sebakhira helps defeat Akira Robinson twice, even though she’s just a Psionic teacher. You all grew and developed in the face of a challenge, of adventure. That’s, like, kinda the whole point of stories.”
Emily ran her fingers through Aisling’s braided hair, admiring Marisol’s handiwork.
“And, Aisling… Emily… if Blake gives the two of you more pagetime, then I’m sure you’d grow into different people as well.”
Emily withdrew her hand and folded her arms, scrunching up her face as she thought.
“Could it be?” Emily mused. “That you and Blake have changed as well?”
Marisol looked at Blake, who shrugged.
“I don’t see why not.” Blake replied. “I mean, do I seem like the same guy who danced with you at the Winter Star Festival?”
Emily hesitated.
“Similar…” she said slowly… “but now that I really think about it… you’re also different.”
“Blake and Marisol are right.” Cali said. “I’m living proof of that. If you took me out of the real world and put me back intoYear of Hellright now, none of my friends would recognize me. And maybe that’s part of the reason why Malum is doing all of this.”
Marisol snapped her fingers and pointed at Blake.
“Did we make any changes to Malum before he made his first appearance inSong of the Solitaire?” She asked.
“Not really.” Blake replied. “He’s pretty identical to what I wrote in my worldbuilding notes. His backstory is recited verbatim in one chapter in the second act.”
“That’s it.” Cali said. “Malum did not grow or change in his own story. He’s static. I wonder if we can use that against him somehow?”
“I bet we can.” Marisol concluded. “That’s our power. We can be more than our backstories. And the same is probably true for the other Creations who’ve sided with him. Maybe we can pull his allies away… over to our side. Then he’d be alone.”
Sebakhira clapped her paws in delight.
“She’s right! If we can get Malum alone, away from his allies, he will be most vulnerable. Have any of you read Blake’s other stories?”
“Skimmed a bit.” Trig admitted.
“I’ve only read my own.” Mina said.
“I’m a slow reader.” Varian confessed.
Sebakhira waved her paw impatiently.
“In nearly all of Blake’s stories, there is a common thread that appears during the climax.” She said. “The hero… or more frequently, theheroinedoes not stand alone against her foes. She is always backed up by friends and allies while the enemy stands in isolation.”
“You are not alone.”Blake recited. “When I was younger, I wanted to make those words the central theme of the Stormbreaker Universe. Didn’t work out that way, but it’s nice that someone remembered.”
“You are not alone.” Marisol repeated. “That’s gotta be how we beat Malum.”
…
Malum Ralpakin
Creation
200 meters beneath Rattia City, Alaria
The starshipBlind Furywas wrecked. It would no longer be able to serve as Malum’s hideout. Already, Alari Gendarmes were digging on the surface, attempting to investigate the cause of a disturbance that rattled the city.
For several hours, Malum’s entourage waited outside of the Gate Chamber. He was locked in the room alone with the Broken Gate. The ring-shaped structure hummed rhythmically as Malum performed a ritual that blended Psionics and cybernetic technology.
One by one, Malum’s operatives passed through the Gate, departing the real world and rejoining their master.
Kiri Ranginui, Whetu Kealoha, Uisce, Tenna Annora, Cassandra Espinosa, Dak J’Bassim and his sister Moka all sat cross-legged on the floor, waiting for Malum’s next move.
At his telepathic direction, Cassandra ordered her nanites to interact with the Gate, making fine adjustments to the Vortex Portal contained within.
Malum stood in front of the gate, two objects clenched in his hands. In his right hand, he held the stolen copy ofMy Father’s War. In his left, Malum carried the Vultaum Reality Perforator, a spherical object that transcended the Fourth Wall, making all of these events possible.
Malum held the Reality Perforator in front of him, keeping it raised in the center of the ring-shaped threshold. With his free hand, Malum thumbed through the book.
No one dared ask about Akira. They all seemed to know, and they all loved Malum even more for his show of strength in the face of betrayal.
“It is something I overlooked.” Malum said aloud. “Something I should have seen before. The author slowly changed and remade the art of Psionics over the course of an eleven-book series. The powers I wield are far weaker than the power used by characters inThe StormbreakersandFaith in Chaos.Yet I am not without my great knowledge… my understanding of the Gift. I will defeat the author, and liberate the multiverse from his influence. It is my destiny.”
“Master, let us go through and finish building the Rotholmen Gate.” Cassandra offered. “We can capture both the author and his editor as they arrive at Stockholm. We’ll have the worldbuilding capabilities of Paradox as well.”
Malum turned his head and replied to her:
“My dear, it will be you and my most trusted allies who use the new Gate to reach Stockholm. Just as it was in my own story, it seems the Gates are reserved only for my followers and allies. I must reach Stockholm another way. Bring forth the prisoner!”
The Gate Chamber door slammed open and three people entered. Two of them were Nagyari soldiers, blue-skinned alien creatures who belonged to the same species as Malum. Between them, they dragged a woman who was gagged and shackled. She was a very tall and skinny human with dirty blonde hair. The only person to recognize her was Tenna, as she was the one to capture her.
It was Erin Bowie, waitress at the bAAR and the very first Creation to cross over into the real world. A look of dark understanding appeared in Erin’s face as she started to scream wordlessly through her gag. Malum gripped the Reality Perforator so tightly that his fingers sank through the outer membrane.
“When Psionics fails, I shall use the author’s narration against him.” Malum said. “My faithful! When I pass through the Gate, you will proceed to Stockholm and finish construction of the Rotholmen Gate as quickly as possible. I shall join you there.”
Then, Malum grabbed Erin by the arm. She was panicking, straining against her bonds. Malum stepped backwards toward the Broken Gate, held up the copy ofMy Father’s Warand began to read aloud:
“Erin Bowie (1992-2027) was employed as a part-time worker at a small establishment in downtown Detroit. Survived the Conquest of Earth and lived under ADVENT rule for twelve years. In 2027, Erin complained to her friends of symptoms consistent with a viral infection; she visited the Detroit Gene Therapy Clinic. Erin never returned. During the 2036 Tribunals, the Global Truth and Reconciliation Commission was able to confirm that Erin was murdered by ADVENT during this ill-fated visit.”
Malum stepped backwards and pulled Erin through the Broken Gate with him. For one short moment, he could see the exit portals of the other five Broken Gates in the network:
Malum’s inner sanctum in the Necropolis, a long dead Tomb World. It still lay in ruins after Malum’s battle with Trig.
The Dreamworld, the very same spiritual realm his son would frequently visit. The Psionic lifeforms who posed as Gods did not detect Malum as he flitted through their space.
The Shroud, an alternate plane of reality built entirely out of Psionic energy. A Lovecraftian nightmare monster briefly acknowledged Malum’s presence, but he was gone before the Eater of Worlds could pounce.
Kinsale Forestin the world of Blake’s newest book:Last Days of the Emerald Isle.Malum could even see the Olinbar soldiers responsible for hijacking it.
And finally,the Island of Rotholmen, on the outskirts of Stockholm in the real world.
Malum bypassed all of these locations, willing himself to follow Erin Bowie through the same narrative loophole that allowed her to appear in the real world.
The noise, the rush, the light, all died away. There was only the sound of cars driving across wet pavement. The flicker of streetlamps.
Malum Ralpakin and Erin Bowie were standing on a busy Detroit avenue. Tucked away between art deco facades of bigger and better things was a quaint, three-story brick building. The second and third floors are covered in windows, each a little portrait into the lives of the folks living behind them. The first floor, though, has only a single oaken door behind a wrought-iron security grate.
On either side of it hung a myriad of flags. A platypus skeleton on navy blue, an assortment of pride flags, and of course the proud flag of the city itself: flags on flags, watched over by two women: one weeping at what was lost, the other comforting her with what was to come. From the ashes we rise again, she seems to say. A humble sign above the door proclaimed:
In the dim light of early morning, no one saw exactly where the primal shout of triumph came from, but they all heard it.
Malum rounded on Erin and snapped his fingers. At once, the shackles around her wrists and ankles crumbled into dust. Her gag transmuted into a liquid that ran down her front.
“You…” Malum’s voice shook as he reached out toward her. Erin panicked!
“Please!” She cried out, cowering and begging for her life, hands over her head. “Please don’t hurt me. I won’t tell anyone! I’ll do whatever you want!”
Malum seized Erin, lifted her until her eyes were on the same level as his (and her feet were well off the ground) and then declared:
“You have given me everything that I want! I’ve never loved another woman as I loved you!”
And Malum forced Erin to kiss him. She struggled for a moment than then allowed herself to go limp, letting the Great Khan continue until he was satisfied and put her down again. Erin’s eyes darted from the bAAR to Malum and back again. He waved one hand, imparting the smallest fraction of his own Psionic power onto Erin.
“If you truly love me, you won’t tell anyone how I came to be here.”
Stars appeared in Erin’s eyes as she was bewitched.
“Never.” She whispered, as though confiding a secret to a lover.
“Go. Your coworkers have been worried.” Malum said. “Tell them you were hidden and safe. When the time comes, I will call you,and you will come to me.”
“Yes, I will!” Erin said. “I’ll do anything for you!”
She tore her gaze away from Malum with the most extreme reluctance, ran across the street, through the wrought-iron gate, and opened the heavy oak door. She looked back one last time before the door closed.
With a rushing sound like a waterfall, a column of purple and silver light shot down from the sky an enveloped Malum Ralpakin. The Great Khan extended his arms as though to embrace it. He raised one arm, holding the Reality Perforator above his head. Then he completed the Psionic Teleportation and vanished completely.
As the sun rose on the city of Detroit, there was only silence.
